


It Takes a Village

by disgruntledkat



Category: Marvel
Genre: Madame Hydra is for the most part an OC, Original Character(s), She's just using the name
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:21:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25369051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disgruntledkat/pseuds/disgruntledkat
Summary: Natasha Romanov would grow up to be one of the world's deadliest assassins, using any means to dismantle, disable and kill her targets. But the suffering that Natalia Romanova went through left her with these skills, while still stripping away so much.I wanted to explore a retelling of Natasha's origin without being logged by decades and decades of canon, so, if things seem fucky-- Don't worry. This is an isolated story, and I'm not planning a ton of crossover with the outside Marvel canon. I just thought this story was interesting, and that it deserved to be told in an interesting way.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. 12

Somewhere, deep in Siberia, a little girl stands amongst the brush. Her feet can only carry her so fast, packing down snow with each step. She would freeze after too long, but that was no different than her alternatives. As if they were in her ears, she could hear dogs barking, no matter how distant. She could hear male voices-- Booming, and frantic, commanding that the others look for her harder. But she was clever. She was more clever than them, she would be able to hide from them. Hide from all of their noise. Her cheeks were red, and the puffs of steam coming out of her mouth as she ran breezed past her face. As long as she could hear them, she’d be able to keep running-- And, hopefully, she’d be able to find someone that would take her in. A warm, helping hand.

Johann was always too quiet. That was her problem. He would wax poetic on occasion, in an attempt to show off the intellect that hid underneath the surface of his skin, but he never said more than he needed to. That’s why, even as he leapt out from behind a tree to tackle her, he didn’t make a noise. All he did was holler out to the rest of the men, squeezing the Russian past his foreign tongue-- “I’ve got the girl! I will take her in-- Go!” She squirmed and writhed in his grip, knowing better than to be violent. All her hopes were banked on the idea of dislocating her own wrist, or that he’d merely let go of her. But, she wouldn’t be so lucky. Slowly, Johann would lean down, tilting his head at her. “What’s wrong, Natalia? Are we not doing enough for you?” Natalia frowned. “I want to leave.” With the Devil hiding behind his gentle eyes, Johann only chuckled and began to walk her back. “Come. Before you lose those legs to the frost.”

Natalia sat back in the iron tub, steam billowing up to the top of the room from the water. Her nostrils were one snort away from the water, and she could feel her body warming up. Johann’s cigar was still smoking in the ashtray next to his seat across the room. He’d told her that he was going to get a book. She revelled in the privacy, though. She wasn’t a child anymore-- She was 12 years old, she should have been able to bathe by herself. He always kept his distance, but he never gave up an opportunity to speak to her. ‘You always learn best when you are vulnerable,’ he’d say. Natalia could only assume it would be true, eventually. But any learning has yet to really reveal itself.

When he returned, he picked up his cigar from the tray as if nothing had changed. He had a book in his hand, and he began reading to her-- Words coming out smoother in his native German. Natasha barely picked up on it as he spoke-- Filling in gaps using context. “A spectre is haunting Europe.” He lowered the book. “Do you know what the next line is?” Natasha thought for a moment, trying to remember what to say. “Something about Communism.” Johann nodded his head, puffing his cigar a few times. “Now that the Iron Curtain truly has shuttered, Natalia, does this spectre still haunt Europe?” Natalia gently shook her head. She knew the answer to this question. “Then what are we to fear, little one?” She met his eyes, taking a moment of silence before responding. “We don’t know. That’s why it’s scary.” He snapped his fingers and nodded his head. “We cannot fear something we understand,” Johann says, lifting his book back up and peering into it. “You fear this place because you do not understand how deeply we care for you, Natalia. How deeply I care for you.” Natalia sunk back deeper into the tub. She did not care to listen. She did not care to speak.

  
She would be isolated in her bed that night. The barracks cleared out of all the children-- She would sleep while they trained, and train while they dreamed. Her eyes scanned across the empty barracks, beds seeming as if they ran on for miles. Just earlier, it felt as if every tree she passed could have been the break in the forest. But she had no such luck. Now, she was here again, handcuffed to her bedpost, to make sure she wouldn’t leave. Madame would be lurking, somewhere in the building, watching her. Discreetly. So, all she could do was watch. Snow blistered by the windows, dusting the sills, obscuring the daylight. The rest of the girls would be in ballet now. Like, streaking in from the massive bay windows. Natalia wondered if she could hear the piano, if she listened closely enough. Strings, housed in the chest of the old grand, gently being hammered…

Natalia was awoken with a smack hours later. She could see the rest of the girls piling in, and now that she wasn’t alone, the room felt smaller. Tighter. Especially as Madame loomed over her, unchaining her wrist. Her Russian was harsh, unforgiving-- She spoke to the children as if they were adults. This posed Natalia no problem now, but, her earlier struggles had ingrained a hatred for her voice deep into her heart. “Up, girl. The rest of the girls are going to bed-- You must train.” She gripped her wrist where the cuff had been, careful not to scratch her with her nails-- Before yanking her up out of bed, and dragging her along. Natalia’s eyes met Yelena’s as she stumbled along with Madame. Natalia worried for that girl-- And it seemed as if Yelena felt the same way.

First, stretches. Simple enough, moving further and further into tests of pain tolerance, rather than anything regarding how limber her body could be. Ballet, for finesse. Firearms training-- Taking apart and reassembling as many guns as she can, and explaining how to fire them with her eyes closed. All of that was easy. It was just memory work, barely any hands touching her body. The real challenge came in the freezer. The room wasn’t heated like the rest of the building-- A thick, steel door, the contents inside hidden by lock, after lock, until the entire side of the door was obfuscated by latches. The girls that were kept away from the room questioned whether or not the locks were to keep them out, or to keep something in. The girls that went in were never allowed to say. They would only come back with lesions, cuts, and silence to share.

Natalia was pushed past the door, stumbling inside, before looking at the metal casket, bolted into the wall. It was like waiting for Nosferatu to creep out, drain her of all her blood. Instead, the steel fingers that slowly pressed the door open were cold, but human. The vacancy on the Soldier’s face was ageless. No different from the last time she’d seen him. They never spoke. She never knew his name. She knew they weren’t listening, but she could never care to ask. She could only rush forwards, and attack.

First, she would have to go for the legs. He was too tall, and she was too short, for anything else. But this meant that he’d expect it, so-- Every time, it was something new, and divisive. And, tonight, it was Natalia scooping up a handful of dust, throwing it into his eyes before lunging down as low as she could. She would try to take him out at the ankle, maybe with a hand coming up to strike at the knee-- But, she had no time. That hand was around her ankle like a vice, and she was being wrought into the air, pigtails victim to gravity. He tossed her like a sack of potatoes, her body rolling and tumbling until it hit a wall. She could hear his boots click against the ground as he marched onwards, and she knew that she had to get up to her feet, before he had a chance to finish this. So, she willed herself up to her feet-- And caught a fist in her nose. Natalia lay bleeding, crimson streaming down across her lips, down her neck, seeping into her shirt-- While the Soldier turned away. He walked towards the door, latched, locked-- And rapped a fist up against it. The Madame would open it, and speak with him-- As him how her performance went. Her rations in the morning would be withheld for her poor performance tonight. But, that was no issue. For now-- Madame would carry her back to Johann, and he would set the young girl’s nose. After that… She could only sleep, and wait to repeat the cycle.


	2. 15

A mission. A real mission. Something where she could finally prove her worth to Madame. Natalia’s face was entirely obscured by her mask and her goggles, parka’s hood pulled up over her head. She was trekking through the mountainside, blending into the blizzard, rifle strapped to her back. No close quarters, no massive clean-up, and, ideally, no witnesses. Her target was only one man, but, there was no doubt he would have an entourage of security. Madame had warned her as such-- Before sending her on a hike to lumber through the mountains. But as Natalia passed through brush and snow, she saw it, ahead the in the clearing.

The complex was massive. Clearly ex-Soviet intelligence, and clearly something that was meant to be well hidden. everything was coated in paint and snow so that, from a bird’s eye view, the base would be obscured. But from her distance, she could see jeeps and men running around, buzzing like gnats. Slowly, she hunkered down in the snow, pulling her goggles up off her face, letting them settle on her forehead. She peered into the base through the scope of her rifle, following after figures and vehicles. They were plastered with branding and logos-- Americans. Insufferable, with their eagles and their love for branding. Natalia let her emotions settle, though, while the scope of her rifle settled on the door to the bunker at the end of the base. Now, she only had to wait.

She had no idea how long it had been. Her body hadn’t been buried yet, but, she was starting to be more than lightly dusted with snow. Absolutely no activity from the bunker. Slowly, her finger came up to her earpiece. “Are we entirely sure that he’s here?” Madame sighed on the other end of the line, before chiming in. “If he were not, I would not have sent you. There are easier ways to have you killed than to let you freeze with one of our rifles.” Natalia just nodded her head. “Repeat the target’s description.” Madame took a few moments, shuffling around papers. “Black. Bald, with an eyepatch across his left eye. He’ll have a heavy security detail surrounding him. Follow him until he is isolated. As soon as you empty your clip, begin running. There will be an evacuation helicopter a kilometer away from your 6.” The earpiece crackled, and Natalia was alone in the woods again. Shaking a bit of snow off her head, she continued to wait.

She followed the floating heads as they made their way through the base. Keeping her rifle trained on their vehicle as they lumbered into their Jeep, their destination still seemed to be within her sights. But, she was sloppy. The scope from her rifle hadn’t been dulled down, and it was still reflective enough to give off a flash in the snow. She watched all of them duck down in the vehicle at once and begin to speed away-- So, she started firing. Her arm wrenched back with every crack of the rifle, loading a new bullet into the chamber every time, riddling the Jeep, and a few of the men with holes. But, the vehicle did not stop. She swore under her breath as it escaped her sight, and they began to riddle the trees and brush around her with their own bullets. She stood up out of the snow, and began running south as quickly as she could.

She could hear snowmobiles and trucks roaring over the hills, weaving between trees-- But she had to rely on her body to outrun them and get to the helicopter. The rifle’s barrel still smoked as it clattered against her back, and she could tell she was being gained on-- But she had to make it out. She could see the helicopter ahead, in a clearing-- Rotors whirring already. She looked to her right, to her left-- And spotting a truck. Likely leading the party. Natasha reached to her belt, pulling a pistol off, and firing off a clip at the truck, killing the driver, and watching it wrap around a log. Bullets were returned in her direction, nicking her sides, but never hitting anything important. She kept form, and, when she was within range, leapt into the back of the helicopter, laying against the floor as it began to take off. 

The back of the helicopter was empty, and she could hear the clangs of bullets hitting the metal chassis-- And the roar of machine-gun fire back down. But, eventually, the chopper made it over the treeline, and, away from the agents below. She couldn’t confirm her kill. And, without a doubt, that would result in some kind of punishment. She was ready to explain her worth, ready to explain that this mistake was still substantial in showing her skill-- And, perhaps Johann would listen. But, he could only do so much for her. He’d grown distant. Cold. Perhaps he’d only stopped pretending, and he’d always been this way. As Natalia shifted from the ground, leaning up against the back wall of the helicopter, eyes trained on the horizon-- Her thoughts were only filled with questions. Dangerous questions. Questions that could lead her to fear.

The door slams shut behind her again. She can just barely hear the locks clack shut behind her, as the rifle that was tossed in after her clattered against the ground. She looked up from the ground through strands of red hair again, knees wobbling as she tried to get up off of the ground. Madame had gotten to her before Johann could object, and even then, he had only subjected her to a different kind of punishment. Up off of her hands, still kneeling on the ground, she watched the soldier come out of his coffin again, not daring to move. If she was to be punished-- She would be punished.

His footsteps bounced off the walls as he approached-- Gleaming silver hand reaching down to pick up the rifle. He hoisted it up, looking down the scope, aiming the gun at the wall, just to size it up. He carried it across his chest as soon as he finished, staring down at Natalia on the ground. She did not know if he spoke. If they had taught him how to speak. But, she would still try, Russian barely slipping past her chapped lips. “Do your worst.” The soldier loomed for a moment, before taking a knee.

“You’re sliding the bolt wrong.” His finger traced along notches and scrapes on the wood body of the rifle. “Too much force.” His voice was quiet. It hadn’t been used in so long, it was like cobwebs were spilling out of his mouth as he spoke. Natalia stared at him, wide eyed, just listening. “This gun is your partner. If you show it consideration, it’ll show you the same. Understand?” Natalia gently nodded her head. Slowly, the soldier handed her rifle, looking towards the wall of the room. There were notches, scratches, marks that, previously, could have been seen as just wear and tear-- But, slowly, they looked more and more like fingernails, dragging down, digging out the concrete. “Fire there,” he says.


	3. 16

“Ha!” Yelena’s leg belted forwards, bashing into Natalia’s arm, but Natalia took the blow, standing her ground. As Yelena’s leg started to return towards the ground, Natalia took her elbow and hooked it around Yelena’s ankle, pressing it into a vice with the joint in her arm. There, her other fist came down, bashing, again and again at Yelena’s shin-- Before Yelena’s other leg came up, booting Natalia in the face. Her grip vanished, and she stumbled to the ground, but not quite out of the ring. She knew that the girls, although less of them than the years before, would tear her apart if she fell out. 

So, down on her knees, Natalia leapt forwards and aimed for the leg she’d been beating, latching around her like a leech. She turned her body as she dove, stomach turning to the ceiling as she tripped Yelena up, and watched her plummet forwards. As soon as she could, Natalia hooked her own ankle around the back of Yelena’s neck, the sole of her other foot pressing up to her chin, and her hands wrenching her angle. “Yield!” She commanded. Yelena hesitated for a few moments, taking in her situation, before battering the gym mat with her hand. Natasha released all of her holds, and rolled away, sitting up on the ground. Yelena was a mess of blonde hair and unbridled anger, but there was no denial of her talent. Natalia was better, but… Her friend was the only one that could keep pace in her losses.

The Madame loomed over both of them, reaching down to grab Natalia’s wrist. SHe dragged her up off the ground, as Natalia’s eyes focused on Yelena, shaking up to her feed. As soon as the adrenaline stopped flooding their systems, and they weren’t focused on combat, it felt like their bodies turned to jelly. Yelena stared through her mop of hair for a moment before giving a cursory bow, melting back into the ring of girls around the mat. Madame did not relinquish her grip on Natalia’s arm. “Girls,” she said. “If you do not live up to these standards, you will not live at all. Understand this. Work harder. Work smarter. I have no empathy for the pathetic.” There was a murmur of ‘yes, Madames,’ throughout the girls, but Natalia stayed silent, eyes anywhere but meeting the older woman’s-- Until she began to be dragged along, out of the training room.

“Where are you taking me?” She knew best not to struggle, but, she had been walking along in silence for too long now. No response from the Madame. “I’m meant to be having my session with Johann now--” Madame’s eyes snapped to meet Natalia’s, a sharp hush leaving her lips.

“You have not had a session for months, girl. You are stupid if you know not why.” Natalia scowled and brought her eyes forwards again, walking further and further down the hall with her.

She was right. She hadn’t seen Johann-- Not since the last time she saw the Soldier. She cared not to mention it, as it would only cause her trouble, but… It was strange.

Madame slowly opened the door to a room-- A room Natalia had never been in before. There was a sickly, pale green light peeking out through the door-- And, after a few moments, Madame shoved her inside. It was walls of screens, outdated and dusty, reeling back tapes and recordings. There were women she’d never seen before in her life, her fellow recruits, and all of them seemed unaware of the cameras. Perhaps they were too scared to look. Madame guided her towards a seat in front of the screens. “Look at them,” she says. “ _ Really _ watch. Every good woman HYDRA has ever produced has come from these halls, and now… Look at these degenerates.” 

Natalia could hear the lock click shut, and her heart thumped faster once it did, but she did not look. She kept her eyes peeled, peering into the screens. “We are still effective, no?” She asks the Madame. Madame shakes her head. “No. You are effective. The rest of the girls… Less so. Even that fool, Fennhoff. He was meant to keep  _ everyone _ docile. The girls, and the Soldier.” She snorted, shaking her head as she crossed her arms. “He is dead now.” Natalia’s head turned suddenly, looking up at Madame, wide eyed. The older woman just stared down, raising an eyebrow. “Are you surprised?” Natalia hesitates before shaking her head. “I just want to know how.”

Madame leaned forwards, pressing a button on the array of switches and dials in front of Natalia. All the screens began playing the same footage-- The soldier’s room. It was silent, but he was having a conversation with Johann. It seemed one sided, with Johann gesticulating, eyes peering forwards through his tiny glasses. But there was something. Natalia hadn’t been reading lips, but there was a pause in conversation. As if he was searching for words. That man was never at a loss for words, it was strange to see him that way. So, she paid attention to what he came up with. ‘You’re too close, Soldier. We’ll have to reset you.’ At that, the Soldier’s head shot up. And no words would ever come from the Doctor’s mouth again.

The soldier was quick to gag him, dispatching him with his spare hand-- Natalia didn’t want to watch. It was unnecessary. She could have watched, but she did not need to. The screens whirred to a darkness, and after a moment, Natalia turned back towards Madame Hydra. She had her arms crossed, and she was staring down, waiting. “We have a year and a half, Natalia. Then, HYDRA ends the program. Puts the Soldier back into storage. Your first real assignment will come the day that the Red Room closes. Any woman in this building that HYDRA does not mark as an asset, will be marked for death. Do you understand?” Natalia looked down at the ground. “Yes, Madame."  



End file.
